The first time I studied poetry was in sixth grade, when I wasn’t that mentally fucked up. Even then- I had a ball with it. I learned about limericks, haikus, poetry that’s the words formed into an image (which is pretty damn cool), and I had several assignments that were simply “write poetry about whatever you want.” This was how my foot got in the door.
A lot of people have depression, anxiety, or both it seems. I was never actually diagnosed with depression, but I've had trusted adults I confide in tell me it seems like I do. I was diagnosed with anxiety when I went to my counselor for the first time.
Alcohol promises fake stability for us mentally ill alcoholics. You see, it calms you down well-enough, but medication does a far better job of that. Alcohol leads to fraudulent stability since drinking counts as self-medication because mentally ill people are in a lot of pain either way. Alcohol really doesn’t help, especially if you treat the drinker well while they are drinking. Alcohol sometimes makes people curious as to what it would do to your body in large quantities—that’s why I stayed alcoholic for so long, because I was in general, curious. In college, I was drinking to fit in.
So today, I'm feeling horrible, I'm sick!! My head is throbbing, like someone is using a jack hammer in there, my sinuses are blocked beyond belief—but I'm still writing because I made a commitment to myself. Today's story was inspired by something that I saw on Facebook.